


i'll clear a place in the snow

by TheFandomLesbian



Series: Spencer's Raulson One-Shots [64]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mostly fluff though, set in tlag universe but can be read separately, sort of angst, tlag universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26311729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFandomLesbian/pseuds/TheFandomLesbian
Summary: Lana and Mary Eunice try to go south for Christmas. Things go awry when they slide off of the road and have to hike back to a hotel to spend the night.
Relationships: Sister Mary Eunice/Lana Winters
Series: Spencer's Raulson One-Shots [64]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1214643
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	i'll clear a place in the snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyRavenscroft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRavenscroft/gifts).



> Title from "Tracks in the Snow" by the Civil Wars.  
> For a request from LadyRavenscroft where Bananun goes on a roadtrip and a fluff prompt: "Your hands are so cold." "Then why are you holding them?" "Because it's my job to keep them warm!"
> 
> My prompts ARE open again! However, I am NOT accepting any in-universe Foxxay prompts. I will not be writing anymore canon-universe Foxxay and will only be visiting them in the context of AUs in the future. As always, I'm open for Bananun, Shaudrey, Hotgomery, Jemily, or anything else you care to drop by my ask box--feel free! Find me on Tumblr at @thefandomlesbian to send asks, or leave requests in the comments of my works, if you like.

The blistering wind bustled outside the windows of the car, howling as the fat flakes of snow buffered the vehicle. They had landed in a snowbank, the headlights of the car reflecting from the ice back in front of them, blinding them. “Lana, I don’t think this was such a good idea.” It was still early in the evening, but the snowstorm had killed the sunlight. 

The weather channel had predicted this, of course, and Mary Eunice watched the weather channel religiously, but Lana had insisted they had promised to visit her family for Christmas, and that was what they had to do, weather be damned. Mary Eunice agreed with that. She wanted to see Lana’s family for Christmas, too. 

“Well,” Lana huffed, “until they start scheduling Christmas in July, bad ideas are the only way we can see my family over the holidays.” She put the car in reverse, revved it—it didn’t go anywhere. “Okay, we’re hung up.” Mary Eunice opened the car door. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“It’s too dark for us to try to unstick it safely. There was a hotel a mile back. We should come back in the morning when it’s light and try to get back on the main drag.” Sliding through the slush and the ice, she opened the trunk and took out their luggage, and then she opened it up in the backseat and sorted through things they would need to take a walk—heavier shoes, thicker socks, coats, scarves, hats… 

Mary Eunice found exactly one pair of thick winter socks, one extra heavy coat, one hat, one scarf, and one set of gloves. 

“Lana, it’s mid-December. You didn’t pack  _ any _ winter things?”

“We’re on our way to the Deep South!” Lana defended. “We won’t need any of that stuff in Georgia.”

“But you always keep it in case you get hung up. How long have you lived in Boston?” Lana shushed her, climbing out of the car. “You didn’t let me pack your bag for you,” Mary Eunice reminded her. 

“Because you’re my girlfriend, not my maid.”

“Or maybe I’m just better prepared.”

Lana arched an eyebrow at her in challenge. “Is that so?” Mary Eunice laughed. The frigid air caught her breath and carried it away from her. “C’mon. We can share the coat. I’ll wear the scarf on my head and double up on socks. You can have the gloves.” 

Mary Eunice supposed they would look rather insane to passerby, but then again, the snowstorm would obscure them from view from anyone whose headlights didn’t illuminate them directly. 

Somewhere in rural Connecticut, stranded in mid-winter, hiking through the snow with one arm thrust in the sleeve of a coat and the other wrapped around Lana’s waist to press them in tightly together, Mary Eunice marveled at this, at how comfortable it was. She adored it, adored how even now, in this moment, she found herself at peace. 

This was not something she ever could have found in prayer, she knew. 

They stumbled up the icy street, tripping over one another, until the dim light of the hotel grew brighter as they approached. The snowflakes froze in their hair and upon their clothes, and Lana buried her gloveless hand into the pocket of the coat, the other shoved down the hem of Mary Eunice’s skirt (she blushed but did not protest). 

She withdrew her frosted hands as they climbed the treacherous steps to the building, and Mary Eunice shed her half of the coat and opened the door for Lana to step inside, following closely after her into the lobby.

A silver-haired woman waited behind the counter. She smiled at them. “I figured you’d be by. Saw your car pass by an hour ago. Roads get precarious in these parts when it storms. How far did you make it, ladies?”

“Not much more than a mile,” Mary Eunice said mildly. 

Lana fumbled to open her purse. “Could we have a room for the night, please?” 

“Sure thing. Two beds?”

“One is fine.” 

“Righty-oh. I’ll have my husband take you down the road in the morning. He can tow your car out.” Lana stiffened. Mary Eunice smiled and thanked her and accepted the key she provided, leading them down a rather dilapidated hallway to a room that smelled of cigarette smoke. “Have a good night, ladies. Let me know if I can get you anything.”

The woman headed back up the hall, and Lana closed and locked the door in her wake. She stood there for a long moment, staring at the door, plaintive and sober and dark, the way she always looked when her mind entered those darkest crevices of the world, the places she never intended to revisit and yet still saw when she closed her eyes. It was the mention of the husband, Mary Eunice knew, the idea of getting into a pickup truck with an unfamiliar man. Lana plunged her hand into her purse, reassuring herself that her gun was there—it was. 

Logic said they wouldn’t need it. Experience said they would. 

Mary Eunice peeled the gloves from her hands and slipped off her shoes and socks and the clothes which had become saturated with melting snow, and in her slip and her underskirt, she approached Lana. She held out her warm hands, clasping them around the blocks of ice on the ends of Lana’s arms. 

“Your hands are so cold,” she whispered. 

Dark, sad eyes darted up to hers. For a moment, Mary Eunice feared Lana would pull away or would say nothing at all in response. Instead, she looked down at where their hands were joined. “So why are you holding them, then?”

Mary Eunice smiled hesitantly. “Because it’s my job to keep them warm.” 

A smile fractured Lana’s melancholy face. “Is that so?” The lamenting and the fear did not leave her, but when she kissed Mary Eunice, the cold room smelling of cigarette smoke felt something like home.


End file.
